The Lullaby
by Greekchic
Summary: Edward left Bella years ago. Now, six years later, he finds her again, and finds that she lives a life without him. A life that doesn't even involve him. Oneshot. Winner of Twilighters United 'The Lion Award!


**The Lullaby **

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. And don't kill me for another depressing Twilight one-shot. What can I say—I like it. Not that I don't love Edward and Bella together, of course.**** I just like to ****change**** things up a bit. **

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The open white curtains rustled in the wind as the woman slowly walked around the room. Her pale, heart-shaped face showed nothing but pure love as she talked softly to something nestled in her arms. Her pale, pouty lips pulled into a heart-wrenching smile as she walked, careful not to trip.

He was sitting on the ledge of the window, carefully hidden from view so that the woman wouldn't see him but he could see everything that was going on. He sat quietly, immobile as stone, not even making the slightest move. He didn't want to disturb her normal night time routine—the routine he had been watching for the past three days. Ever since he found her again.

His eyes bored into her frame as she swayed around, singing something softly to herself. He marveled how she hadn't tripped yet—usually when she attempted to dance, or even walked across a flat surface, she managed to stumble and fall. He concluded that she must be putting all her concentration into the effort to stay upright. He smiled, fondly remembering all the times she had tripped and stumbled on nothing. Now, it was like a different person had taken over her. Her once long brown hair was cut short to about her shoulders and parts of it were held back by a clip. She had filled out a bit more—he figured that was reasonable with age, but her chocolate brown eyes hadn't changed a bit, and neither did the blush on her cheeks as she stumbled across something. He took in a deep breath and smiled sadly—she still smelled of fresh flowers.

Steadying herself, she laughed softly and shook her head slowly, her brown hair cascading this way and that, thinking to herself that after eight years, she still managed to trip over nothing. Making soothing sounds, she wandered over to a CD player and gently pressed Play. The sounds of a piano broke the silence as the beautiful and heart wrenching notes hit his ears. He was amazed that she had found that CD. He had hidden it so well—under the loose floorboard. Yet, at the same time, he was pleased that she had found it and still wanted to listen to it. This was the first time she had ever played the song—usually she hummed a tune.

She started swaying again, her head looking down as she spun around slowly, humming to herself. He could remember the day he had played the song for her on the piano—the first time he had really seen her cry—the first time he had seen the small, salty drops of water leak down her face. He remembered touching one lone tear and tasting it. Tasting it as if he had never tasted anything before. The best part was that he didn't have to cough it up—so he would always have a part of her in him.

Pulling out of memory lane he looked at her again and to his shock, saw a tear fall out of her eye. He longed to reach out and touch it—touch the tear that fell down her rounded cheek. He also wanted to touch her warm skin again, wanting to feel the warm blood pulsing in her veins. The longing got so intense, he had a crazy urge to jump out and hold her for all eternity. He waned to apologize to her for leaving her but wanted to explain that it had been the _right_ thing to do. She had obviously moved on and she was a human—that was the most important thing.

Then why did he feel so guilty for leaving her?

He leaned forward, resting his head in the palm of his hand, looking like a marble statue sculpted by Michelangelo, his light eyes following her every movement as she swayed and twirled, still humming softly to herself.

He saw another tear slip down her face as she stopped swaying and looked at the wallpapered wall blankly. A small smile made its way onto her lips and he wished that he could know what she was thinking. He wanted to know if she still remembered him. He ached to know if she even remembered his name. And at this exact moment, he wanted to know if she was even _thinking_ about him. She was playing the song—she _had_ to remember him. There would be no other explanation for her putting the CD on. The small fire in his chest started to burn with intensity as he continued to gaze at her.

He memorized every feature of her face, the way that her eyes would crinkle when she would smile suddenly, the small lines in the middle of her forehead that would crease when she frowned, as she did the previous night, the way her nose would wrinkle when she smelled something bad, as she did the first night he found her. He gazed at her body, the body that was covered in the baggy gray T-shirt and the yellow, pink, and orange striped pajama pants, drawstrings not tied. His eyes traveled down further until they rested on her burgundy colored slippered feet. Last night, she had sat down and kicked them off, both of them hitting the opposite wall with a light 'thump'. Instead of frowning, like most would do, she had only laughed softly, a pleased look in her brown orbs.

The lullaby ended on its last melancholy chords and she seemed to jerk out of her stupor. Cradling her arms closer to her chest, she crossed the room and replayed the song again. She sighed in a content way as she walked over to the rocking chair he remembered seeing in her room back in Forks. He remembered the first time he had sat in that chair—all those years ago, gazing upon her sleeping face, struggling with his conscience about right and wrong.

He saw that a blue pillow was now on the rocking chair, supporting her back as she leaned back, resting her head on the top of chair so that her creamy white neck was exposed, her pale eyelids closed as she threw off her slippers, letting the tips of her toes slowly rock her back and forth. He felt his throat constrict as he gazed at her throat, feeling the venom pour into his mouth. He wanted to shoot himself (if that was even possible) for even _wanting_ to sink his teeth into her tender neck. He left her all those years ago for this exact reason

He knew he shouldn't be here, but it was physically impossible to be away from her. He had left his family four years previously, searching the country for her. He knew he had hurt a lot of people—especially his mother and he would forever feel guilty about it, but he also knew that being near her was a physical and emotional _need._

The sweet part of the lullaby came and he saw the soft light of the lamp reflect the tears silently leaking down her face. He ached inside—he wanted to hold her and comfort her. He wanted to soothe her, smooth her hair away from her face and kiss her neck and face until the tears and the pain went away. It killed him on the inside that he did not have the privilege

Leaving her was a mistake—he knew that even when he was planning it. Seeing the hurt and betrayal on her face devastated him but her believing the lie so quickly tore him up on the inside. How could she believe the lies, but not the truth? He wanted to run into the room and apologize to her profusely—saying he was so sorry for putting her through hell. But he didn't. He wasn't apart of her world anymore. She had cut him out just as he had asked her.

He had returned back to Forks not even a few months later, not being able to handle being away from her and he was devastated to hear that she had moved to Florida with her mother. Her father had coldly told him that she had become an emotional wreck and he and his ex-wife thought it was best that she move away from the place that caused her so much pain. And then, he recently found out that she—

The door opened slightly and a man's head popped into the room, hesitantly tip-toeing in. Watching from the window, he bristled and growled softly—soft enough that human ears couldn't detect the sound. With narrowed eyes, he watched as the man, in his white T-shirt and blue plaid pajamas, walk over to her and stroke her cheek gently. She opened her eyes, smiled at him, and extended her neck forward to brush her lips with his. A demon inside his chest seemed to open up and it roared that the man should be killed for touching her in that manner—_she_ belonged to_ him!_ Not that pathetic piece of a human being.

As soon as the feeling of murder had come, it had gone and he was left feeling drained. Even though he didn't want to admit it, he knew that this—_thing_—was better for her than he was. He was human, he supplied her with a proper home, and she didn't have to worry about her humanity being taken away. The man gave her everything that he couldn't dream of giving her.

The man kissed her forehead and looked down at her arms, a tender look in his eyes as he bent down to kiss it. Straightening up, he started to leave the room but she called him back and asked him to turn the song back on again. He laughed, showing off immaculate white teeth (the man was a dentist) and pressed the 'Rewind' button. Telling her not to take too long, he closed the door gently behind him.

She sighed as she lifted her head from the top of the rocking chair, gazing at the CD player. Her head was turned in his direction and he moved more in the darkness—the place where he belonged. She was the day and he was the eternally damned of the night. She sighed again as she whispered something so softly that even his superhuman hearing couldn't even hear it. However, he could lip read and it seemed like she had said his name. The feeling of hope in his chest increased in size as he slid over towards the light, praying in his head that she would say it again.

Unfortunately, she didn't repeat what she said. Instead, she stared out the window and the familiar crease on her forehead appeared. Getting up, she walked to the window and looked out. Scooting over so that he was hidden more in the leaves of the tree, he became still again, not daring to make a sudden move, while hoping she would not shut the window. She continued to look in his direction and he had the horrible feeling that she knew he was out there. However, she just chuckled and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Owl.'

Disappearing back into the room, she went back over to the CD player and took out the CD. He had crept out of his hiding place long enough to see what she was doing. Her actions tore his dead heart up but he was puzzled a moment later when she put in another CD. Flipping a few songs, she got to the one she wanted and moved away.

Debussy.

She _had_ to remember him still! There was no way that she could put that song on if she didn't remember him. Resuming her earlier methods of swaying and twirling, she continued to do this until the song ended. Pausing, she looked up at the clock, and then looked down at her arms. Sighing wearily, she turned the CD player off as she walked over to the crib nestled in the corner of the room.

Gently laying the baby down in the crib, she continued to gaze at him with so much love in her face; it made his dead hurt squeeze. At one point, she had looked at him with that much love and adoration.

Bella leaned in a bit more and kissed her son's soft cheek. Straightening up, she lovingly caressed her baby's head and smoothed the downy mess of brown hair that covered his small head. "Good night my sweet Edward." She whispered, gazing at her baby, but then looking up and out the window, her eyes boring into his.

And Edward had a feeling that Bella didn't mean the baby.

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**I liked it. What about you? To clear up any confusion, Bella is twenty-six years old, married, and living in Jacksonville, Florida.**** Edward never went to Italy and Bella never cliff dived. The only part of **_**New Moon**_** that was used was the first 3 chapters and the beginning of chapter 4.**

**And about Bella's baby, YES, his name is Edward. **

**Comments are loved!**

**-GC **


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